The Illusionist
by v.pseudonym
Summary: In a world where adoration, infidelity, and desire exist, lies are the only thing that can keep us from going insane. Nothing is what it seems to be, especially when one lie connotes that hell has no fury like a woman scorned.


**The Illusionist - Introduction  
**

**Summary:** In a world where adoration, infidelity, and desire exist, lies are the only thing that can keep us from going insane. Nothing is what it seems to be, especially when one lie connotes that hell has no fury like a woman scorned.

It is another chilly winter night in Odaiba Central and no one dared to leave the comfort of their warm home after 7:00 p.m. This winter has been quite harsh on the citizens of Odaiba as the gusts of wind that wafts through the night can leave any brave citizen in an almost hypothermic state. The exquisiteness and tenderness the famed Cherry Blossom Trees used to exuberate are now long gone as the trees and in effect anything else the wintry weather touches has willowed away.

This urban paradise has transformed into an Arctic ice age. Even the infamous Chocolique Delights, once filled with the delectable aroma of their homemade scorching Swiss chocolate lattes and freshly baked chocolate pastries that can invigorate the senses and bring forth hunger in a full stomach have blown away and along with it, every single citizen too.

Strangely enough, one gentleman wrapped in a knitted green and black scarf and matching tuke, a brown leather jacket covering his toned physique, leather gloves that protect his hands from the wind's prick, worn down leather boots, and datary dark jeans walks in a slow and steady pace. His hands are in his pockets and his head is tilted towards the snow covered pavement, while he listens to his MP3 player.

As he walks past Rohini Park, a place every joyous child roams around playing juvenile games like Hide and Seek, Soft Ball, and Tag, one cannot but ask the question 'What is he doing at this time of night?' Of course it's kind of funny to ask such a ridiculous question like that, it is just 8:43 pm after all.

The man is none other than 28 year old Takeru Takaishi. Born under special circumstances, he is heir to the Takaishi Corp. fortune – estimated worth at least 150 million. Takaishi Corp. is one of the most prominent publications in Japan, specializing in a wide variety of magazines, which can range from fashion to cooking. He was also editor in chief of Insiders magazine, Japan's critically acclaimed nationally newspaper – circulation at least 13.7 million.

In addition to his outstanding wealth, Takeru Takaishi is quite a handsome bachelor too. At the age of 23, he was the youngest man to be named Bachelor of the Year, three years in a row. His beautiful blond hair can draw attention to absolutely anyone surrounding him and his piercing blue eyes can attract any female he desires. Standing tall at 6'2 after years of playing basketball he is in outstanding shape. His pale skin that's as smooth as silk can make any girl he holds melt in his arms and his perfect pearl white teeth can make any female or homosexual drool for him. He attended La Doer Institute, a French, English, and Japanese international school that he perfected with ease. In addition, he effortlessly aced his SATs and wounded up at Harvard University, specializing in journalism. He also was in charge of The Harvard Crimson, Harvard's daily newspaper since 1873 and he graduated with top honors.

At last, he stops in front of the Ci-Metière, a place known for its bleak and sinister atmosphere. He gazes at the iron and rusty gates and slowly, but forcefully pushes the gate of Ci-Metière. The iron gates make an eerie sound as he widens the doors. He looks back with eyes darting from side to side to see if anyone was aware of his presence. He sees no one and heaves out a sigh, before he closes the door and walks into Ci-Metière.

He walks towards a peculiar stone and finds a letter left for him. He picks up the letter and carefully examines the envelope. He recognizes the cursive writing on the front of the letter and nervously darts his eyes from side to side again. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees no one and holds the envelope close to his chest, almost as if he is contemplating on opening up the letter or not. He finally opens the envelope and reads the five words written in the letter and suddenly, he stops breathing. He falls to the blanket of snow and whispers to himself, 'What have I done?' while rereading the letter once again and looking at the unmarked grave of,

_Kihari Shiakita_

_Unknown – 2009_

_Lost, but never forgotten_

**To be continued.**


End file.
